Twisting The Knife
by Speckless Nougat
Summary: An act of cruelty; sometimes more painful than the infliction of the wound itself. Times are changing fast for the Animaniacs crew; too fast for some, not fast enough for others. Some want their chance back again. The only way is to take the matter into their own hands.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: I had one more story up my sleeve. This is a huge departure from stuff I normally write, so I wanted to give it a go. Please note that nothing in this story was likely to happen on the TV show, so therefore character reactions are likely to be OOC. If this sort of thing is going to annoy you or send you on a journey of self-destruction, I'd give this one a miss. :)**_

_**Also I should note than none of my stories are in canon with one another unless otherwise stated. So this one isn't related to 'Embers in the Ashes' in any way.**_

_**Thanks to UnknownWarner for proof-reading, keeping my head out of the clouds and from drifting TOO far into OOC-ness.**_

**TWISTING THE KNIFE**

**PROLOGUE**

His eyes darted from side to side.

He had to check, to make sure that no-one had seen him. It annoyed him, it had all seemed so easy when he had thought the idea through. But it was a big difference between imagining a deed and actually doing it.

He blinked sweat from his eyes, a mixture of nerves and exertion; the kid was heavier than he'd anticipated. He didn't transport his burden with much in the way of decorum; in order to transport his unfortunate victim to the location he wished, he was dragging the poor soul by his leg.

_An aching limb will be the least of his worries when he comes to_, the hooded figure thought darkly.

It was a relatively quiet street, and the alleyways he was traveling between were quieter still; but as he was not yet a hardened criminal – not really – his paranoia was getting the better of him.

He heard a low moan from behind him; he turned – almost as quick as a reflex action -and delivered a blow to the side of the head which silenced his unwilling companion immediately. The streetlight shone on the boy's face; a trickle of blood was snaking down his cheek.

The hooded figure stopped for a moment to check the kid was still breathing. He hadn't wanted to kill him; that would never do at all. It would ruin everything, in fact. The key purpose of all this was that he _had_ to be alive.

Of course it was never easy to take down a toon, especially if they were prepared for a fight. The key to a successful attack on _anyone _was the element of surprise, and it was an absolute necessity when your target was a toon. Ambush was the only way; if you proposed a 'show-down' they would be ready and you stood no chance. Mallets, anvils and even explosives were all fair play; and on top of all that they had 'toon powers' – a way to protect themselves, to prevent themselves from being seriously harmed. They were only usable if the individual was completely in focus; if they weren't concentrating they were as vulnerable as any other living organism. Perhaps even more so.

Of course, the hooded figure knew all this. He knew it better than anyone, because he _was_ a toon.

Thankfully undetected, he dragged his victim across the gap between the two buildings and positioned him against the wall. The youngsters' head lolled slightly, his eyes half-open. His assailant quickly pulled another pair of gloves over his own. There was no point in taking chances. He paused momentarily to look at the face he remembered well – in actual fact he remembered _three_ faces, nearly identical. But if he could not have them all, he would at least have _this_ one.

He was almost angry with himself. Several times he'd almost chickened out of doing this; his conscience had argued with him, telling him they were just children. Well he didn't care, he decided. They'd made his life a misery, though they were just one part of that.

The other part was lying in the opposite alleyway. He wouldn't be making anyone else's life a misery, the stranger could count on that.

Ensuring his normal gloves were well-covered with the extra pair of thick leather ones, he pulled a mallet out of his hammerspace. There was a tiny drop of blood on it. A sick side of him had wanted to see _more_. However the earlier deed on the previous victim had been less messy than he anticipated; a swift blow to the nape of the neck and he'd gone down.

Perhaps he'd underestimated his own strength.

He'd stood behind the noisy pizza take-out, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps; that of a person who can't believe what they've just done.

_He'd never killed anyone before..._

He almost had to slap his own face to break the spell. He dragged the lifeless man over to the filthy trashcans, so he would be out of sight until some poor bastard came to empty the rubbish.

And then he'd run.

He hadn't walked with confidence or a spring in his step; he'd _run_ like a little sissy girl.

Of course he hadn't gone far; he had to finish this. There was more than one job to be done to make this whole thing work seamlessly. The next thing to do was to choose the 'murderer'.

And he had that all worked out in his mind. His first victim was one half of the cause of his miserable life; the second would be one of _them_, and one who would spend the rest of his life rotting in jail; a miserable existence, just like the one they'd given him. It would affect all of them, not just the one he would victimize; their child-like personalities would be drained away once they had some_ real_ shit to deal with.

And it would be made all the worse for them by knowing the fact that their sibling was innocent.

He grinned darkly, his eyes hidden by his hood. His unnaturally white teeth shone in the gloom. Hanging around the local shops had been worthwhile; not only had he found out that _they_ ordered pizza from the take-out every Friday, but he'd found out roughly what time, and even the pizza toppings they chose, though the last one wasn't of much interest to him. People working in a pizza joint didn't half talk crap to one another to pass the time.

The only fly in the ointment was the fact they'd probably call the take-out rather than visit it; but it was only a minor fly.

Nothing a pair of pliers through a cable wouldn't fix.

_What a shame the line was wired outside the water tower and not underground_, he thought sarcastically.

The quiet buzz of a moving lens caught his attention. He glanced up at the camera, following his every move like a computerized human eye. He wasn't sure why that made him nervous; he even had that taken care of. He had to find a way to turn his conscience off.

With a final check over his shoulders, he dumped the kid in the corner, actually kicking his legs out of the way, before he rubbed the boy's hand up and down the handle of the mallet with a slight chuckle to himself.

How ironic that modern science allowed the cops to now be able to study toon DNA.

Leaving the mallet on the ground, the figure headed out of the alley before disappearing through a door into what looked like a basement apartment. He shut it behind him with a soft click.


	2. A Bitter End

**A/N: *inhales deeply* OK, quick explanation of my version of Toon Physics: I'm still working with the premise that DRAWN toons don't age, only BORN toons do. I've just included that because someone's bound to notice the plothole if I don't say it xD That's the reason the Warners stay the same age but Skippy will grow up; I've portrayed the former as drawn, the latter as born. Hope that's not too confusing :D**

**Chapter One**

**A Bitter End**

Plotz stared out of the office window with his hands clasped behind his back. He could see the murky reflections of the people standing behind him on the other side of his desk. He wasn't sure where he had learned this performance from, but his 'dramatic' pause was maybe lingering a bit too long to have the desired effect. He turned around to face his audience, his voice solemn and not a hint of his usual volatile temper in it.

"To conclude," he said into the packed office, "I would like to add that the sales of _"Wakko's Wish"_ were not as high as I expected. It sold well despite being a straight-to-video release, but not well enough to convince the powers that be to re-commission _Animaniacs._" His voice grew even quieter. "I am sorry to tell you that the show is cancelled forthwith. This time the decision is final."

"Hardly a fitting end to such a successful show, ya overpaid corporate yutz." This of course was Slappy Squirrel talking; who else had the nerve to speak to the CEO in such a manner? "So what are ya gonna do with us now? Cast us as extras? Send me to a luxury retirement home?" Her voice was angry but she had her hand on Skippy's shoulder, the young squirrel looking as if he might burst into tears at any given moment.

Plotz's voice was unusually lacking in expression when he answered her.

"I'm not going to do anything with you. You can all go home whenever you're ready." He looked up at her as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "Feel free to continue living in your tree-house, Slappy. Though all the furniture does belong to the props department..."

"I _beg_ your pardon...?"

Plotz immediately changed his previous tone, laughing nervously. "No! No, feel free to keep it all, Slappy-"

"That'll be Ms Squirrel to you."

"I was uh-just kidding, just kidding..."

"Yeah, well, I'm the queen of comedy, _Thad_, and this is not the time to be making 'jokes' at our expense."

Slappy spoke for everyone in the room. Plotz was suddenly aware that he was in an enclosed space with a large number of toons who nearly all carried some sort of weaponry. Off-set they were all a generally good-natured bunch and he doubted they'd do any serious damage...but they were all angry. Angry toons could be on the unpredictable side. He loosened his collar.

"You can all expect a paycheck monthly from the sales of the videos and any merchandise. I doubt it will be a particularly vast amount but I expect you've all got some sort of savings..."

"And what if we haven't?"

Yakko's voice.

"Aren't there any other jobs for us? You commission new cartoons all the time..."

"Yes, but we can't have any of you running around in the background! People won't accept you as new characters; you'll always be the Warners, those crazy kids from _Animaniacs._" Plotz had regained some of his usual belittling attitude.

"Where can we go then?" Wakko interjected softly. He lowered his voice so much that Plotz could barely hear him speaking. "You know we don't have anywhere else. You created us...you and the writers for _Animaniacs_. Didn't you think about what would happen after our show ended? "

Plotz could feel his face reddening more at the middle Warner's statement than he had at Slappy's questions or Yakko's more defiant statement. He didn't care to discuss this in a room full of toons who were more than likely to be on the Warners' side in all this. He cleared his throat and loosened his collar for the hundredth time.

"Of course you would be welcome to stay on living in the tower...for a small rent..." The man just couldn't help himself sometimes.

"Oh yeah? And whose magic money tree is going to help us finance it?"

Yakko again. Off-screen, the boy was never normally rude beyond banter with his comments, but treat him unfairly – worse still, treat his _siblings_ unfairly – and he was like a coiled spring, always ready to strike. The trouble was, quick comebacks weren't Plotz's forte. He didn't write the cartoons, he only commissioned them, and there was a reason for that.

He had no flair for that sort of thing. That was what he hired writers for. Toons were always complaining that they'd been handed a script that was too controversial, embarrassing or outright ridiculous. As Plotz had said before and would probably say again, "Speak to the writers about it."

Perhaps he wasn't that great a CEO, though he'd never have admitted that to anyone. Some business people threw themselves into the best interests of their employees, all ears to any problems. Plotz wasn't really like that. He liked to engage with popular movie stars, he liked to stand on a red carpet in an Armani suit and give that special 'camera smile' to any paparazzi or investors, and he liked signing things.

That was about it.

Plotz turned back to the roomful of toons with Yakko at the forefront with as much dignity as he could muster.

"The offer is there," he said tiredly. "Take it or leave it."

Yakko made a step forward but Slappy laid a hand on his shoulder and shook her head as discreetly as possible. He looked at her in surprise. Slappy rarely made physical contact with anyone aside from Skippy; seeing the look on her face, he decided to do as she bade and somehow managed to hold his tongue. Plotz waved his hand.

"You're dismissed."

They wished Plotz hadn't phrased it quite like that. It sounded too final.

Once they were outside the office, Slappy turned to Yakko.

"Sorry for invadin' ya personal space back there, kiddo, but I'd think about what he's offering. Coming from him I'd say it was almost generous, but you know what his temper's like. Push 'im too far and you'll end up walking the streets rather than simply jobless."

Yakko nodded and raised a half-hearted smile.

"Thanks, Slappy. I don't know how we're going to pay for it though..."

"You'll get the checks from the sales of merchandise, like he said. Can't see he'll charge you too much rent, that water tower's not used for anything else. By the time that's all over you might have been able to find a job. Not much out there for the likes of us but you can give it a try. As for me, I'll be trying to save some of those checks for Skippy's college fund."

"Will you be staying in Burbank?" Dot asked from Yakko's side.

"Yeah, might as well live it up in the old tree-house." Slappy grinned. "So might still see you kids around then."

"Perhaps we can come and see you and Skippy sometimes?"

"Yeah, but not Wednesday night. That's _CSI_ night. I pack Skippy off to bed at some ridiculous hour so I get to watch my detective shows in peace."

The Warners grinned at her; they were used to her jokes and abruptness.

"See you around, Slappy."

"Take care of yaselves, Warners."

Plotz stared out of the window, watching the Warners as they passed by below him. Wakko was saying something to Ralph; the guard didn't look especially pleased. Plotz muttered under his breath. Even the guard who was supposed to keep them under control had a soft spot for those pesky kids. First Scratchensniff, now Ralph...was he the only person who saw them as nothing but irritating brats?

The trouble was, in the depths of his heart, Plotz knew they weren't really that bad. Yakko was simply a good older brother looking out for his two siblings; they enjoyed causing a riot and having a good time, but they never really did anything that was clean off the scale, not off-screen anyway.

Perhaps he just didn't want to admit to himself that he'd become a grumpy old man. He was getting older and what did he have to show for his years besides money? He had no wife or family of his own; sometimes the Warners simply annoyed him by having a close family bond.

_But what else could I do? _He thought to himself. _If they want to keep living in the tower I don't see that asking for a rent was an unfair request..._

_But they're just kids_, a tiny voice in the background chimed in. _Where will they find the money now their show's officially come to an end? You of all people know that what they made out of it will run out, and not too far into the future, either. The others all had homes to go to or somewhere else to live. You could have just let them stay._

_They're too annoying..._

_Come on, you know they don't cause that much trouble, particularly for you. It's Scratchensniff and Hello Nurse they won't leave alone for five minutes._

Plotz sighed and jolted back to life as he saw the Warners craning their necks up at him. Yakko and Dot looked angry; Wakko simply looked sad. He was emulating the frown worn by his siblings but his tongue was still lolling out and his ears were drooping.

It was (much to the CEO's embarrassment) Plotz who broke the staring contest first. He walked away from the window, recalling Slappy and then Yakko's angry words. He didn't like admitting any of his own faults but he knew he was greedy when it came to money, and that he was downright selfish denying three children the place they'd called home, and for what? A stupid rent that meant nothing to him and yet money that meant everything to them.

Plotz picked up his overcoat; he needed some air and he had something to attend to anyway. He called out to his secretary that he was leaving before closing the door to his office with a strange air of finality.

**A/N: Thanks again to Unknown Warner for proof-reading. Please review if you have the time, I treasure every one :)**


	3. Wrong Place, Wrong Time

**A/N: Thank you to Unknown Warner for his invaluable help with certain details of this chapter. :) **

**Also, for some reason Scratchensniff is always human in my fics, not a toon. I don't know why, I think it's just for my convenience xD**

**Chapter Two: Wrong Place, Wrong Time**

**Saturday 4****th**** March, 2000**

**LOCAL DISCOVERY SHOCKS BURBANK RESIDENTS**

_Local pizza delivery boy Frankie Harper returned to Tops Pizza joint last night only to be met with a gruesome and unexpected sight. Frankie had just finished his deliveries and was at the end of his shift when he made the horrific discovery of the body of a middle-aged man by the trash cans just behind his work establishment._

"_I thought he was a drunk," Frankie told us, the young man unsurprisingly shaken by his experience. "He was just lying amongst the black bags and empty drinks cans; he didn't look hurt or anything. He wasn't there when I set off with my deliveries only an hour before. I even went over to try and wake him up when I saw him. That's when I realized he wasn't breathing."_

_Despite Frankie's swift actions in calling an ambulance, it was already too late and the man was pronounced dead at the scene._

"_I can't believe it," the boy added. "It seems unreal. Only when I heard the paramedics say it aloud did I truly believe he was dead. It seemed impossible; there wasn't even a mark on him!" _

_The witness was too distraught to comment further._

_Several local residents have also been questioned in an appeal for anyone who may have witnessed what happened or if they had seen anyone who may have been involved. We have no further information on this at the time of going to press._

_The victim is yet to be formally identified. Our thoughts are with his family during this difficult time._

_It will be the Observer's duty to keep you up to date with this tragic case. The police are currently stating the cause of death as unknown but this is subject to change with the results of the autopsy and other medical investigations in the coming weeks._

* * *

Yakko shut the door of the water tower, tiredly listening to the sound of Dot complaining enough for the three of them about their situation.

He threw his jacket on the floor in a corner instead of hanging it up – Dot was bound to kill him for that later.

_Meh, life's too short._

He followed his siblings through to the kitchen where they'd sat down at their small kitchen table. He wondered what they should do next. Plotz clearly had no intention of giving them another job, even just as mere extras in someone else's cartoons. Maybe they should take him up on the offer of staying in the tower. It would beat roaming the streets of Burbank or Toon Town homeless, anyway...

"So what do you think we should do, Yakko?"

He realized suddenly that both his siblings were looking at him, anticipating a reply. He gave them a grin.

"Let's see how things look in the morning. Ya know how Plotzy can be. I bet I can talk him round."

Dot snorted.

"When it comes to money matters you'll never talk that one round, Yakko."

"What, with my smooth talk and acting ability? I could sell him a clock with no hands!" Yakko's face became more serious. "No, really guys. I'll go have a word with him tomorrow. If we have to pay rent...I'll...I'll think of some way round it."

Wakko and Dot wanted to ask just _how_ he planned on doing that, but they took one look at his face and let the subject drop. He didn't give much away with his expression usually but his siblings knew him better than anyone, and they knew he obviously didn't feel like discussing it right now. Yakko looked up at the clock in the kitchen and sighed.

"I'm starving. Let's send out for pizza."

"Shouldn't we be saving money...?"

Dot spoke quietly despite Wakko elbowing her in the ribs. He could have been trying to tell her not to nag Yakko or he could have been trying to shut her up so he got the pizza; there was no way of knowing.

Yakko smiled at her.

"Let's enjoy it; we might not be able to do this as often in the future. But Wakko-" he looked sideways at his brother. "You can't have forty-two pizzas this time."

Wakko tutted.

"I'm a growing boy; I need the calories."

"We haven't grown an inch in our lives, you nutter. You don't need the calories! You're lucky you're not the size of a house!" Yakko wagged his finger playfully at Wakko. "Careful, bro. Toons can defy many laws of science, but no-one said we couldn't get fat!"

Wakko pulled a gookie at Yakko before grinning at him; he knew he was only kidding.

"Can I at least have it with no crust and extra cheese? And...can I have more than just one?"

"It's two for one night. You can have a few...this time."

Wakko, suitably placated, gave Yakko a grin, tongue lolling as his brother went to the phone. His siblings watched him as he dialled the number. Then he frowned, pressed the disconnect button and tried again. Confused, he shook the phone (though he knew this was never of any help) and held it to his ear. He looked at Wakko.

"Looks like the line's down; I can't even get a dial tone."

"What?" Wakko cried, his eyes wide. "The phone's down? What will we _do_? Communication with the outside world gone...and what about my pizza?!"

Yakko and Dot couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey, bro, I thought Dot was supposed to be the one who had acting lessons?" He patted Wakko's shoulder. "Never fear, sibs. I remember a time when people used to do this thing called 'walking'..." he reached up for his jacket. "So never mind, Mr Drama King. I'll go and collect our dinner. You two stay here, OK? Don't go out on the lot by yourselves now it's dark..."

Wakko and Dot rolled their eyes.

"Yes, we know, Yakko..."

"And don't-"

"Open the door unless you say it's you!" The younger siblings chorused. Yakko pretended to be annoyed before giving them his usual cheerful smile.

"Back in a bit."

* * *

Yakko slid out of the door as he tried to balance the stack of pizza boxes in his arms. He muttered about Wakko's excessive appetite fondly under his breath as he tried to focus on not falling off the pavement and into the actual road.

A shadow in the corner of his vision made him glance to his left; this was getting stupid. The same thing had happened on the way in to the take-out. Yakko was sharp and he'd realized that someone was following him. He put the boxes on the ground for a moment. He certainly wasn't the nervous type – _more the suave, silent type,_ he thought to himself, slicking back the fur where his eyebrow would have been had he been human – but this was downright creepy. He turned to look into the dark alley where he was sure the person had been standing. He was about to call out when the figure emerged from the shadows. He'd know that springing walk anywhere. Yakko's features relaxed into a smile.

"Oh, it's you!" he called with a slight wave. "Geez, I thought some stalker was after me or something..."

Yakko trailed off as the person walked towards him without a hint of an expression on his face. By the time the figure was practically in front of him it was far too late for Yakko to execute his toon powers. His eyes widened as the stranger pulled a mallet from his hammerspace.

Pain exploded in Yakko's head; he could feel the blood beating behind his eyes, a trickle of blood running down his face. Nausea bubbled in his stomach before his assailant struck him again and the whole world seemed to float away.

* * *

Wakko stared at the tower door hungrily, his tongue practically dragging on the floor.

"You standing there won't make him come back any faster, Wakko."

"But what's taking him sooo long? He said he was hungry too!"

"What do you expect? He has to carry seven boxes instead of one because you're such a garbage-disposal!"

Wakko pulled a face as soon as Dot's back was turned; it really wasn't like Yakko to take this long to do anything. Wakko looked at the clock.

"Maybe we should go look for him?"

"He'd go mad at us leaving the tower by ourselves at this hour. If you stopped clockwatching you wouldn't even notice the time passing so slowly."

Wakko thought about it; it didn't happen often but he just had a gut feeling that something was wrong.

What if Yakko had been in an accident? There were plenty of people who disliked the Warners, despite the fact that in reality they were pretty normal kids once you got to know them. People seemed to think that what they saw on screen was real-life; no matter how much you tried to explain that all the stunts they pulled were carefully set-up. Once poor Wakko had even had someone chase him off with a baseball bat.

Maybe he'd gone to see Mr Plotz? They did all want to stay living in the water tower after all...

Wakko switched the television on to make things sound more 'normal' as he paced around the living area, and as time ticked on further he could that Dot was beginning to get agitated as well.

_Half-past ten._

_Quarter to eleven._

This was ridiculous; the pizza place would be closing in fifteen minutes, and Yakko had left at half past nine.

"I think maybe you're right." A small voice reached Wakko's attention from the opposite side of the room. "He's never been gone this long before..."

Wakko took a deep breath.

"Come on," he instructed, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. "Let's go and find our brother."

The first logical place to look was Tops Pizzeria restaurant; they weren't sure if they were relieved or even more worried when the guy at the counter informed them that someone who matched Yakko's description had been and gone more than an hour ago. They asked anyone and everyone who passed by if they'd seen Yakko, but were either met with 'no' or even ignored altogether.

They were on the verge of giving up when Dot suddenly grabbed Wakko's hand; the middle Warner looked at her curiously before following her gaze to a patch of smeared blood on the floor at the entrance of a nearby alley. Wakko swallowed hard.

"Wait here."

"No. I'm coming with you. Yakko needs our help!"

Wakko could see there was no point in arguing, and frankly, he didn't want to waste time doing it. He simply nodded his head and they walked across together, not even registering that their hands were still linked.

They hesitated on reaching the entrance. Wakko peered into the gloom, waiting for his eyes to adjust, but it was the sudden squeal from Dot that made his heart jump up into his mouth.

"YAKKO!"

Dot suddenly broke their linked hands and started running; Wakko had a hard time keeping up with her adrenaline-boosted pace. He was panting for breath when he caught up only seconds later; only to feel breathless all over again when he saw what – who – Dot had clearly located before.

Yakko was lying on the ground in the almost-black corner of the alley; blood was snaking down the side of his face. It was too dark to see where it was coming from. Wakko cursed himself for not bringing his gag bag with him. There was probably a torch in it.

"Wakko! Go get help!"

Wakko didn't need to be told twice. He got to his feet, shaking like a leaf. He took a moment to compose himself before he took off running back in the direction they'd come from, falling, tripping over empty cans and piles of rubbish, too frantic to focus his concentration on using his toon abilities.

He stumbled into the phone box* and seized the handset, thanking his lucky stars that 911 calls were free of charge.

* * *

Wakko felt indescribably dizzy sitting in the ambulance as it sped down the highway towards the hospital. It didn't help that he was facing the opposite way to the direction the ambulance was driving in.

Dot was sat next to him on the small seats squashed into a corner as the paramedics worked on Yakko. It was true that they had said he wasn't in a life-threatening state; the machines and the oxygen mask were a precaution; but to Wakko and Dot it felt just as awful as if Yakko was at death's door. They weren't used to being thrown into serious complications in their lives, and now two had come along at once like the proverbial bus that you waited ages for.

_First the cancellation of their beloved show and the possibility of being thrown out, now this_.

Dot hung on to Wakko's hand; it provided them both with some small comfort.

They zipped in and out of the traffic, making Wakko feel sicker than ever. He was thankful they hadn't actually _had_ the pizza before all this happened.

* * *

Wakko paced the hospital floor. In things like this, the waiting was the worst part, and he hated it.

He hated being led to a gloomy, dank waiting area in the ER department. Why were they always painted grey or dirty cream? Was it to make the occupants even more miserable than they already were? He watched other people coming in and out; some people sat on the hard plastic chairs with seemingly nothing wrong at all. Perhaps they were worried relatives like him and Dot. Sometimes people were rushed by on stretchers and every time Wakko felt his heart give a thud; his brother had been one of those people not an hour ago.

It was worse knowing that Yakko was behind one of the doors. They had begged to be let in to be with him, but one abrupt doctor had told them they would simply be in the way; another younger, much kinder nurse had told them they were too young but that she would keep them both informed. She had been true to her word and had been out to tell them that the doctor's were 'doing what they could' for Yakko at least twice in the past hour.

Her kindness meant a lot to Wakko and Dot at that moment. She reminded Wakko of 'Hello' Nurse; the memories of leaping into the latter's arms with his brother was enough to make the middle siblings' eyes well up. He swallowed and blinked hard; he was trying his utmost best to look after Dot in Yakko's absence. If she saw him cry now it would never do at all.

He padded back to the seat next to his sister before jumping up and putting his arm around her. Normally she might have pushed him away or asked what he was after; tonight she simply laid her head on his shoulder without a word.

Wakko remained in his inner turmoil despite his seemingly calm exterior. He comforted Dot; once or twice he felt her head nodding but each time she shook herself vigorously, determined not to sleep until they found out Yakko's true condition.

_Is this how it is? _Wakko thought to himself. _Whenever Dot or I do something stupid without thinking, or sneak off without telling Yakko, is this how it feels every single time?_

Wakko made a promise to himself there and then that if he'd ever put Yakko through this, he'd make sure that he'd never do it again.

It wasn't a long wait, not really, but to the two remaining Warner siblings it felt like the longest time they'd waited in their entire lives. Wakko was doing well at being strong for Dot's sake, but he was finding it hard; he hadn't realized Yakko's job in being the eldest could be so trying. He'd often thought it might be fun, to be the leader; when what you said was the be all and end all. But then he remembered that there was this side to it; worrying when his siblings were sick or what they were getting up to when you weren't looking.

He was staring at the doors Yakko had disappeared through earlier, practically willing them to open and someone to tell them something – _anything_ – when a hand on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie. He looked up into the face of Doctor Scratchensniff.

"Scratchy?" Wakko's voice was not as steady as he'd hoped. "How did you...I mean...when..."

The older man pushed his glasses up his nose; he looked flustered. Wakko noticed he still had pyjama bottoms on under his coat. He couldn't help but smile to himself; over the years the doctor was the one person who had truly been there for the three of them. If anyone had been a father figure to them it was him.

"I received a call from ze hospital to say Yakko vas in trouble..." he scratched his head. "Zey must have taken my number from Yakko's vallet maybe..."

Wakko nodded; it was highly likely that Scratchensniff would be their emergency contact. One of these days he'd probably regret it; he'd end having to pick them up from somewhere halfway across the country or something.

"He...he didn't come back from the take-out...we got worried, so we went to look for him."

The doctor sat down next to Wakko, keeping his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"We searched and asked a lot of people, but no-one had seen him. It was me and Dot who found him in the alleyway..."

Wakko trailed off.

"Don't vorry, Vakko. Yakko is strong, he vill be fine, you'll see." The doctor addressed both the Warner siblings with this statement. Wakko and Dot both managed small smiles. They sat together in the waiting room; what an odd sight they must have looked to some – an old human man sat with two small toon children nestled up to him for comfort.

Scratchensniff didn't care.

It wasn't much longer before the double doors opened and 'their' nurse appeared; she looked a bit surprised to see Scratchensniff but she kept her professional mannerism without missing a beat. She turned to the remaining Warner siblings.

"You can see him now."

Wakko and Dot got up and started to follow her. Scratchensniff hung back in the waiting room, clearly not wanting to intrude at such a delicate moment, but Wakko beckoned him after them. The three continued down a short corridor to a small side room. There were two people standing by the door that they didn't recognize; a woman in about her mid-thirties with a short bob haircut, and a short, stubby man wearing a brown overcoat. Wakko and Dot wondered why they were outside their brother's room but the sight that greeted them as the door was pushed quietly open made them forget the strangers in an instant.

Yakko was lying on the hospital bed, his eyes still closed. He was connected to several monitors that bleeped alarmingly at regular intervals. There was an oxygen mask over his face and intravenous lines running in and out of his slim arms. Wakko and Dot gasped. The nurse bent down to them, trying to be reassuring.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she said gently. "According to the team, he's not badly hurt. He's got a bit of a concussion and his ankle's got a pretty bad sprain; he's going to need a bit of help from you. The lines are just there to help him replace any fluids or salts he may have lost."

Dot tried to smile despite holding back tears.

"I-I can hold his hand, right?" she whispered. "It won't hurt him?"

"It would probably be good if you tried talking to him as well. He might be able to hear you; it could help bring him round sooner. I expect the doctors will want to keep him in for tonight, just to be on the safe side."

Dot only nodded in response, clasping Yakko's gloved hand in her own.

Wakko hesitated. He felt stupid; he knew it was Yakko, but he looked a bit scary connected up to all those machines, his eyes closed, that cheeky grin he knew so well absent from his features. He looked so _small_ lying there; years had been sliced off his 'age'. He looked years younger; younger than Wakko, almost as young as Dot.

Wakko felt Scratchensniff's hands on his shoulders; not for the first time that night, he was grateful for the older man's continued support. He chided himself for being a baby; Yakko could never be scary. Just the thought of how hurt his older brother would be if he knew Wakko was thinking this propelled Wakko forward, and he took his brother's free hand.

"Hey, Yakko," he spoke softly; his voice hoarse as if he hadn't used it for a long time. "It's us, your favourite siblings." He altered his tone, trying to talk in a farcical fashion; he didn't realize it at the time but he was imitating his older brother, remembering how he had acted during times when Wakko and Dot were sick.

"C'mon, Yakko. We know you're playing up to this...bet you're just faking to get the attention of all the pretty nurses." Wakko paused; how he wished that were really true. "They've told us you're not that bad...you've had a bit of knock on the bonce,* but how about you wake up now?"

Yakko eyes stayed shut; Wakko gripped his hand harder.

"Wake up...we just wanna talk to you..."

A voice cut into Wakko's heartfelt plea.

"So do _**we**__..."_

* **Phone boxes – remember those?! The thingys we used before we all had mobiles? xD**

*** Bonce = head. Wakko has a Scouse accent so I threw in a bit of British slang, hope you don't mind.**


	4. I Speak, But No-One Hears Me

**CHAPTER FOUR **

**I Speak, But No-One Hears Me**

**Wednesday 15****th**** March, 2000**

**ALLEYWAY DISCOVERY NOW OFFICALLY MURDER CASE, POLICE ANNOUNCE**

_We recently produced an article documenting the discovery of the body of a middle-aged man in the small alleyway behind Tops Pizzeria Restaurant._

_The victim has been named as Thaddeous Plotz, CEO of the Warner Brothers Studio. _

_Autopsy results show that the cause of death was a vicious blow to the cerebellum, located at the nape of the neck. This method can cause fatal damage should the force be vicious enough, however until further investigation it can fool the untrained eye into believing the death was caused by natural means._

_Police are now urgently requesting for witnesses to come forward. _

"_No matter how small or irrelevant it seems, any information can help us at this crucial stage in our investigation. This is now officially a murder case. We are holding one person in custody whose identity we are unable to reveal at the time of going to press."_

_Plotz, the long-time CEO for the Warner Brothers Company pledged his life in service of the establishment. We spoke to several people who had worked with Mr Plotz._

"_He was a quiet man. A man who stood aside and happily let the stars of the screen take the limelight while he waited in the shadows. He didn't want recognition; he merely wanted to do his job and do it right." _

_Previous rumours that Thaddeous Plotz had a vicious temper and permanently nasty streak have all been dismissed by the same staff member who wishes to remain anonymous._

"_He had his faults, just like anyone else. Nobody's perfect. But he did not deserve to die in such a cruel manner; myself and the other employees of Warner Brothers can only hope that the killer will be brought to justice."_

_The police have requested that the suspect cannot be identified until further notice; however more questions with our staff member give us reason to believe that it may well have been a toon who is suspected of committing the crime. _

_On questioning the interviewee on whether he knew anyone who would have wanted such drastic revenge on Mr Plotz, we were greeted with the cryptic reply:_

"_I don't know of anyone who could have wanted to kill him; someone hell-bent on revenge I suppose. But that could lead to any number of people; shows are cancelled all the time, money is lost, people become desperate. As I've said before, he wasn't perfect. Perhaps to some it would seem he was cruel in his dismissals, particularly those of toon stars. Toons can be very unpredictable. They see their cartoons as real life; they think they can smash or explode their way through anything in their path an no-one will get hurt. This time it has had tragic consequences."_

_The Observer wishes to remind all readers that the above opinions belong to those of the individual. They do not represent the feelings of the staff or writers of The Burbank Observer. _

_We will keep you up to date with any further news of this tragic yet intriguing case._

* * *

The Warners looked at the intruder with a cross between anger and disgust; the nurse turned to face the strangers.

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't come in here..."

The short stubby man they had seen loitering by the side room door flashed an I.D card in the nurse's face.

"Detective Lawson. We need to ask a few questions regarding an...incident." The nurse was unperturbed; she stood her ground as she answered him in a steady voice.

"As you can see the patient is unable to speak at this time. I must insist you come back when he is fully rested and the doctors presume him fit enough to withstand your interrogation."

"It's not an 'interrogation.'" Detective Lawson's companion cut in. "It's strictly routine; we're just doing our job." She threw the Detective an angry look before turning back to the nurse. "I apologize for my very..._forthright_ colleague. We'll come back tomorrow."

They were escorted out of the room by the nurse, who shut the door behind her as she escorted them to the exit. Wakko and Dot looked at Scratchensniff.

"What's that all about?" Wakko wondered aloud.

"I bet they're looking for the jerk that did this to Yakko," Dot fumed. "And quite right too! How dare they do this to our brother! He hasn't done anything wrong!"

Scratchensniff sighed inwardly; why was it the police always seemed to go after the wrong people? The Warners were zany – his own favourite word for them – they were slightly...hyperactive, for want of a better description, but over the years he had discovered that underneath it all, they were rather innocent. He didn't voice any of his thoughts to Dot; she was so wound up it was likely she might explode at any given moment. Wakko seemed to sense it too and took her hand across the bed. It seemed to calm her; after a moment locking eyes with Wakko she went back to staring at their elder brother. Wakko could almost see her thoughts as she willed him to wake up.

"We'll be staying here tonight, Scratchy," Wakko spoke without breaking his gaze from the bed. "Thanks so much for coming. Will...will you come and take us home tomorrow? When Yakko's better?"

Wakko found it easier to convince himself that everything would definitely be fine by the next day. He didn't know why, but it gave him some sort of confidence. Dot frowned at him and he almost smiled – not quite, but almost – Dot never wanted to accept help from anyone.

She was like Yakko in that sense. It was unusual for Wakko to seek help from anyone either but Scratchensniff was the only person they'd truly come to trust over the years. Besides, he doubted Yakko would feel like walking home or taking a bus after his ordeal, even though the hospital wasn't far.

"Of course, Vakko," Scratchensniff's thick accent cut into Wakko's thoughts. He stole a glance at Dot. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Wakko _did _want him to stay. He oh-so-badly wanted the doctor to stay and soothe him with useless but comforting statements such as "everything will be alright" and "don't worry"... but he knew it would do neither him nor Yakko any good.

He would be strong for Dot's sake; he'd make Yakko proud.

Still, he was grateful for the kind offer and smiled a little as he shook his head.

"No, it's OK. We'll be alright. You go home. We've done a grand job of wearing you out today already."

Scratchensniff didn't laugh at Wakko's attempt to lighten the situation. He patted the middle Warner on the head and looked towards Dot.

"I vill see yous in ze morning."

"Thanks, Scratchy."

Scratchensniff nodded in acknowledgement of the only words Dot had spoken to him all evening before quietly exiting the side room, leaving Wakko and Dot with the quiet, insistent beeping of the monitors which told them they were merely playing a waiting game until Yakko woke up.

* * *

_Wakko was running, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He was trying to make his toon abilities kick in but he was too panicked, too scared, too worried. He had to find his brother._

_He was in a dark alleyway; he'd been running for so long. It felt like forever, but was that just his senses being distorted because he couldn't use his toon abilities? How long did it take to run somewhere at the average pace of a normal person? He couldn't think; he just wanted to emerge from this infinite alley and find his brother._

_It was getting darker and darker; he couldn't see anything. He had thought Dot was nearby; he could hear her voice. She was calling out to him..._

"_Wakko...Wakko..."_

* * *

"Wakko!"

Wakko blinked. He sat up too quickly and the room spun around.

"Wakko, are you OK?"

"Yeah..." Wakko shook his head, trying to shake off the dizziness. "Did I...did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah. You were dreaming. You were yelling so loud you almost got us thrown out." At Wakko's guilty expression, Dot softened her tone. "Don't worry. I dropped off too for a little bit."

Wakko looked at the bed.

"Has he...?"

"I think he's starting to."

Wakko leaned in closer to Yakko; the older boy's eyelids were trembling slightly. His eyes cracked open a little only to recoil at the seemingly glaring brightness of the light over his bed.

"Sibs...?"

It almost made Wakko's heart skip a beat to hear Yakko's voice so hoarse and weak, but he mentally shook himself. It was good enough that Yakko had spoken at all. Wakko didn't know all that much about concussion; it sounded serious. Scratchy had said it wasn't so bad – it took some people longer to recover than others but essentially there were no lasting effects. He plastered a smile on his face and Dot did likewise; to Yakko, seeing both his siblings looming over him with identical expressions seemed strangely comical. He smiled back at them, though he couldn't achieve the expression properly. It felt as if someone had lodged a golf ball inside his left cheek, and he couldn't see out of the eye on that side clearly either.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Am I not beautiful enough today?"

"How could you joke at a time like _this_? It's not funny."

"You know me, sis. I could crack a joke if the apocalypse was upon us."

"We've been sitting here all night worrying ourselves sick about you. It's no joking matter..."

"Ooh. Have I stumbled across a conversation I shouldn't have overheard?"

Wakko and Dot immediately tensed. Standing in the doorway was Detective Lawson.

"Has the invalid been up to something he shouldn't have been?"

Wakko had had enough. He stepped forward, looking angrier than Dot had ever seen him.

"Y'know, for a cop, you don't seem to go about your job in a very professional manner."

The detective laughed out loud.

"Just got put in my place – by a minor, no less! You're funny, kiddo. Where'd you get to be so old-fashioned, eh?"

Wakko ignored the dig at his age; he looked Lawson straight in the eyes.

"What are you accusing our brother of?"

Detective Lawson raised his hands with a smirk that annoyed Wakko even further.

"As we've said before, we're not _accusing_ him of anything. Thaddeous Plotz's body was discovered in the alley adjacent to where your brother was found..."

Wakko momentarily froze.

"M-Mr Plotz...?"

The detective looked at him as if he were a complete ignoramus.

"Found dead last night. Murdered, if all current evidence proves correct. If we're going to piece together who killed an innocent human being in cold blood we need to ask questions; find some witnesses..."

"And what about who did THIS to Yakko?" Dot cut in, her voice shrill. Despite her shock at the news, her first priority was still her older brother. "No-one's even shown an interest in that..."

The detective smirked again; a mere curl of the lip. Dot bet he practiced that smile in the bathroom mirror every night.

"It just seems strange to me, Ms Warner..." he paused. "That your brother was so close to the scene of this...unfortunate incident. I recently heard your television series was cancelled..."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"And you've all been left hung out to dry. Seems a pretty good motive to me...despite the fact that your brother would gain nothing out of it other than a decent helping of revenge. That leads me to..."

A hand suddenly came to rest on his shoulder. He glanced back to see Walker - his colleague - standing behind him with a slightly disgruntled look on her face.

"It would be better if we continued questioning at the station, Detective. Yakko Warner has the right to a lawyer. And your questioning his siblings is not our prerogative. They weren't at the scene at the time; several witnesses have confirmed that they came to search for Mr Warner at 11. . There were no sightings of them beforehand."

Detective Lawson grunted. Wakko was starting to feel even more annoyed. They were being treated as criminals. None of the police officers had even batted an eyelid at Yakko's injuries; dried blood was still caked on his cheek, and one eye was slowly turning purplish blue. Perhaps they all thought toons could magically heal themselves like they did on TV. _Those injuries weren't real_, Wakko wanted to shout. He opened his mouth to say it out loud but a voice from behind interrupted.

"Sibs..." it was Yakko's voice; devoid of it's usual upbeat tone. The nurse had disconnected him from the monitors. He stood slightly to the right of Detective Lawson, hanging his head, still clad in the regulatory hospital gown. "Don't worry. Just do as he says."

"But, Yakko-"

"No, Wak. The sooner I help the police out with this investigation the sooner I can get home." A tired smile passed across his face. "I'm not exactly on form right now but I'd like to get this over with." He looked dubiously at Walker, completely ignoring the detective, infuriating him. "I'm not being arrested, right?"

The second of the two officers was certainly a more humane being than her companion.

"No, no," she said solemnly. "It's just routine; when it comes to a murder case we need all the witnesses we can get."

"We'll come with you!" Dot cut in.

"No, sis. Call Scratchy to come and take you home."

"Yakko-"

"It'll be one weight off my mind. Please. Just let me get discharged from here and answer the cops' questions. I'll call you as soon as I can."

* * *

Wakko waved half-heartedly to Doctor Scratchensniff as he drove off towards the exit of the lot. With a very heavy heart he shut the door; he could hear Dot banging around in the kitchen.

"This isn't fair!" She practically leapt on her brother as soon as he entered the room. "They're treating Yakko like he's done something wrong! We have to do something!"

Wakko took a seat at the kitchen counter. He barely looked up.

"And what can we do?"

Dot was taken aback by the hopelessness in his voice.

"Well...um...show everyone that he's innocent?" He voice grew a little more confident. "Cause _I_ know he didn't do anything wrong..."

Wakko suddenly swiped the contents of the kitchen counter onto the floor. He looked up at Dot with his eyes ablaze; a mixture of fury and despair.

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know that Yakko's innocent? Of course I don't believe he had anything to do with this!"

Wakko stormed into the living area; Dot followed him a good way behind. She hated when Wakko got angry. He was normally so placid that it was strange to see him lose his temper. And when he did, he made a good job of it. She thought she was imagining it when he suddenly pulled his mallet out of his hammerspace and brought it down with surprising force on their dining table.

"It's not fair! Why won't they listen to us?"

Despite his fury, Wakko's voice was barely more than a whisper. As he turned and a shaft of light fell on his face, Dot was sure she caught the glisten of tears on his cheeks.

"Wakko! Please stop!"

Dot raised her voice to a shout; it still didn't seem to reach the middle Warner's ears. Dot raced across the room and flung her arms round Wakko's waist.

"Please, Wakko, don't do this..."

The note of fear in her voice drew Wakko out of his rage. He let the mallet fall to the ground in front of him before turning to his now sobbing sister and pulling her into a hug. The fact that she was crying made him feel awful; wasn't Yakko counting on him to look after their little sister while he was away? He looked at the dining room table which was now sporting an impressive crack down the centre. Yakko was going to have his tail for that...

"I'm sorry, Dot..."

A damp patch seeped through her headfur.

"Your tears are dripping on my head..."

"Well yours are soaking my shirt..."

"Hehe...sorry."

Dot hugged her brother back harder; they stood in the middle of the living room like that for quite some time.


	5. Interrogation

**A/N: OK so this chapter is short. I haven't had a lot of time to write lately so you might find my chapters are a bit shorter for a while :) **

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers!**

**CHAPTER FIVE: INTERROGATION**

Yakko stared at the table in front of him. There was an old blob of ink in the centre; he'd focused his vision on it for so long that when he looked up, the rest of the room was blurry.

He didn't think he'd ever remained as silent as he'd been here today. The interview room at the police station was just like the ones you saw in movies; like those TV movies he sometimes watched half-heartedly in the afternoon when there was very little else on.

A room, devoid of character, square, dark, ugly. A table in the middle. He sat one side, his 'interviewers' sitting opposite. They looked at him; the disdain in their eyes was apparent.

_Whatever happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?_

The officer was speaking. Yakko had thought that when the got to the station he'd at least have a different cop questioning him. He'd hoped for Detective Walker. She seemed nice. Not in a "Hello Nurse" kind of way, but she seemed solid, reliable, and to have not lost all compassion. But it wasn't Yakko's day – hell, it wasn't Yakko's _week_ – and he'd been landed once again with Detective Lawson.

One look at this guy and even Yakko didn't try to crack a joke or lighten the situation; he hardly dared to open his mouth. He didn't like the way Lawson took everything he said and twisted it around until it meant something else altogether. He seemed to have his mind set on the fact that Yakko was guilty, despite that he'd told him before questioning had begun that the boy was not on trial here.

_So how come he'd been stuck in this interview room for nearly two hours under what seemed like relentless cross-examination?_

Lawson suddenly brought his fists down on the table with deliberate force. Yakko jumped, cursing himself inwardly as he did so.

"Well? It's a not difficult question, Mr Warner. Did you see anything suspicious last night as you were leaving Tops Pizzeria Restaurant?"

So they were back here again. This was where they'd started. And the answer was the same as before. Perhaps the detective thought he would have forgotten and give him a different answer this time.

_My brain isn't that tiny_! Yakko wanted to shout, but he had sense enough not to voice this opinion. He'd almost lost his cool earlier and raised his voice; and he'd deduced by Lawson's expression that this was exactly what the detective was after. He'd be sure not to make that mistake again.

"No." Yakko heard his own voice, clear and devoid of any stutter as he answered, his own black eyes making direct contact with the human's grey ones. "I went into the take-out; I got the pizzas, then-"

Yakko stopped as he suddenly remembered.

"Then?"

"I-I saw someone coming out of that alleyway. He was coming towards me..." Something suddenly clicked. "It was that person who hit me over the head!"

"Oh? And who might that be?"

Yakko was too busy concentrating to notice Lawson's sudden introduction of _'Good Cop, Bad Cop'_. He struggled to remember. He _knew_ the person who had attacked him, that was for sure...but that's all he remembered.

"I...I can't remember..."

"Really? How convenient." Lawson stood up and paced slowly round the desk. Yakko felt his steely eyes boring into his back; he braced himself for the detective to suddenly shout into his ear. Two hours and Yakko already knew that this was the guy's favourite scare tactic.

Lawson stood at the boy's side.

"So, you were hit on the head, you say."

"I'd think it was pretty obvious seeing as I can barely talk and I only have one functional eye."

Yakko pressed his lips together. He hadn't meant for the sarcastic thoughts buzzing round in his brain to actually come out of his mouth. If there had been a personality quiz and Yakko had to state what he thought was his worst fault, he'd definitely have chosen his inability to keep his mouth shut.

"Hit on the head...with something like this, maybe?"

Lawson produced a polythene bag containing a mallet. It was a fair size, with blood splattered in various places on it. Yakko stared at it. He opened his mouth to speak but the detective got in first.

"Strange then, that we located this mallet next to you in the alley where you were...umm...'found'."

Yakko didn't like the way Lawson delivered that last word; but he didn't say anything. He wasn't going to back himself into a corner.

"What do you think this item was used for then, Mr Warner?"

_This is so stupid._

"It's obviously what that crazy person used to knock me out, isn't it? What I want to know is why you're interrogating _me _when you should be looking for the lunatic that knocked me into the middle of next week?"

"I'm coming to that, Mr Warner." Lawson took his seat once again before continuing. "I would like to take some DNA samples from you. If what you say is true then you have nothing to worry about."

Yakko looked at the detective. He was deliberately trying to get Yakko to guess what he was thinking. He wasn't having any of it.

"Then what's going to happen after that?"

"Then you can go home...for now." He stopped the Dictaphone***** after stating what time the interview was terminated. Yakko breathed a small sigh of relief as the detective called for the toon DNA specialists; he wanted nothing more than to go home.

* * *

"What are we going to do about that table?"

"I can only think of sticking a tablecloth over it; I don't think he'll notice."

Wakko hung his head.

"Sorry, Dot. I'm really sorry I lost it back there..."

Dot smiled at him.

"It's OK, Wakko. If you hadn't done it _I_ might have...only I'd have made more of a job of it than you."

Wakko poked his tongue out at her affectionately.

"At least we can hide a split in the wood...if you'd have done it we'd have had to do a major repair job. Perhaps involving superglue."

Dot stuck out her own tongue and pulled a hideous face; it felt good to smile again.

Both siblings turned around in surprise when the water tower door suddenly creaked open; and their smiles faded almost as quickly as they had appeared.

Yakko was standing in the doorway. Dot felt her heart drop down to her feet; he looked terrible. He swayed on his feet and leant against the door for support. He flashed them a smile; insincere, but a smile nonetheless.

"Hi, sibs. Hope you didn't cause any trouble while I was gone."

Wakko felt some of his anger returning. Yakko was still sick. It wasn't fair that he'd been dragged off to the police station for questioning. Couldn't they have at least given him a day or two to recover?

"Yakko? Come and sit down."

"I'm not tired..."

Dot knew she would have to indulge him; he always turned super-stubborn when something was up; particularly if he thought his siblings might be pitying him.

"No, of course not," she continued carefully, "but sit down anyway. We want to talk to you."

Yakko walked towards their couch without his usual springy step. He was like a being in a dream. Wakko glanced fearfully at the now rather imbalanced table but Yakko was too worn out to notice. He already knew what their first question was going to be and, to be honest, he didn't really want to discuss it. He simply wanted to climb into his bunk and get some decent rest; but Dot and Wakko had been waiting for him faithfully all afternoon. They hadn't even wrecked anything – to his knowledge - it wasn't fair to leave them in the dark.

Finding out the unfortunate victim had been their former employer Mr Plotz had been a bit of a shock, especially as they hadn't parted on particularly good terms. Amongst his befuddled thoughts, Yakko had wondered what would happen to him and his siblings now that the studio would be taken over by someone else. He had thought Plotz's demands of a rent were unfair; perhaps someone new wouldn't be ready to offer them any sort of home at all. Or worse, if they couldn't find a buyer, the studio might well be shut down. They might have been able to talk the old CEO round. He wasn't all bad; self-centred, maybe, but he had his good points.

'Had', in the past tense, being the operative term.

Yakko's head was spinning. No wonder humans were so vulnerable; at least if he had a chance to channel his concentration he was able to avoid the consequential headache that came from being clouted. Without toon abilities he was completely unprotected.

He closed his eyes to stop the room from going round and round. When it slowed to a sort of shaking just beyond the edge of his vision, he sat up and spoke.

"They were questioning me about what happened to Mr Plotz. I told them I didn't know anything but they just wouldn't let up."

"And what about what happened to you? Didn't they ask about that at all?" Dot spoke for both herself and Wakko.

"Well they did, in a sort of roundabout way." Yakko put his head in his hands. "I kept trying to tell them what happened but that Detective Lawson-"

"HE was the one questioning you?!" Wakko asked incredulously. "Why him? I thought..."

Yakko gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, I thought I'd finally lose him when I got to the station. I thought maybe that Detective Walker-"

"Who's Detective Walker?" Wakko interrupted again.

"That other police officer," Dot answered for Yakko. "The one who was at the hospital."

Yakko looked between his siblings; it appeared they were having the discussion for him. He continued.

"Lawson kept on twisting everything I said until it meant something else."

Wakko and Dot looked at him.

"I thought that was _your_ job?" Dot said. She wasn't joking around. It was rare that anyone got the better of Yakko verbally. But this wasn't a normal situation where one party threw insults at the other and waited to see who came out top; at the end of this argument there had been waiting a very real threat. Yakko knew that if he'd have put one foot wrong, he wouldn't have been sitting on the couch with his siblings tonight.

"I remembered something about the person who hit me." Yakko ventured. His siblings looked at him with a kind of grim eagerness. "It was someone I know. But I can't remember _who_."

Yakko was slumped on the couch by this point. He was obviously exhausted; Wakko could see that they weren't going to get much further tonight. Yakko was pushing himself too hard, too soon after his ordeal.

Dot clearly wanted to know more but she too could see how tired her brother was. She tried to round off the discussion so that Yakko could get to bed.

"I think we've chatted enough for one night. Why don't you take a shower, Yakko? Wakko and I will make you something to eat..."

Yakko shook his head, then wished he hadn't as it set the room spinning again.

"It's OK, Dot. I'm not really hungry..."

Dot stood in front of him wearing her best overprotective mother expression.

"You have to eat something. At least let me make you a hot chocolate before you go to sleep."

Yakko relented. She was only looking out for him after all, just like he always had for her.

"OK. Just a hot chocolate then."

"Can I have one too?" Wakko asked quietly. Yakko put an arm round his little brother. He sometimes got overlooked when things got heavy, and yet Yakko was really grateful to him for looking after Dot and keeping things together in his absence. His sibs must have really had a tough time themselves in the past couple of days.

"Sure, we'll all have one. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Dot smiled at her brothers. Moments like this seemed so much more important all of a sudden.

It would have been a completely perfect Disney moment had the table not chosen that precise moment to showcase Wakko's handiwork by collapsing in a heap on the floor.

* * *

**One last funny-ish moment at the end before the story gets somewhat darker. :S**

***** **Do the cops still use these?! I haven't watched enough up to date cop dramas to notice...curse all the nights I missed CSI and NCIS xD Well to be fair this is set in 2000 – 2001, so I should get away with it!**

**Until next time! :)**


	6. Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story and all my other current fanfics are on hiatus for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately my real life is so crammed at the moment I just can't find the time in the day to do any writing. I am really sorry about this, and it will teach me not to disobey myself again by posting chapters before I've finished the full product. Thanks to all my reviewers, your kind words have meant a lot. :)**

**Suzi**


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